


Who wants to sleep in a city that never wakes up

by GingerHoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Death, Love, M/M, Stars and Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 17:57:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerHoran/pseuds/GingerHoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cities all bright lights, skyscrapers and great coffee, there’s no roof you haven’t explored at midnight with a torch, a few beers and your journal because its peaceful and although there’s no stars, you can imagine, plus the stars are a map, there mapping out your future and you want it to be a surprise, you want to live for the moment.</p><p>You don’t know what you’re writing but the pens moving, and in the dim light you can see your messy cursive across the page and it’s comforting and scary to let your subconscious take over, when you’re done, you drop the pen and lay against the afghan against the hard asphalt, and your hands are shaking and your throats dry, so you reach for the paper letting the tears fall, because it’s exactly what you were afraid of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who wants to sleep in a city that never wakes up

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Old Yellow Bricks by Arctic Monkeys

The cities all bright lights, skyscrapers and great coffee, there’s no roof you haven’t explored at midnight with a torch, a few beers and your journal because its peaceful and although there’s no stars, you can imagine, plus the stars are a map, there mapping out your future and you want it to be a surprise, you want to live for the moment.

You don’t know what you’re writing but the pens moving, and in the dim light you can see your messy cursive across the page and it’s comforting and scary to let your subconscious take over, when you’re done, you drop the pen and lay against the afghan against the hard asphalt, and your hands are shaking and your throats dry, so you reach for the paper letting the tears fall, because it’s exactly what you were afraid of.

It’s hot, wait scratch that it’s bloody _sweltering_ , the sweat rolls down the ridge of your spine and pools in your collarbones, the leather seat is burning your skin, but you ignore it, instead opening the window to let the breeze flush your skin and press down harder against the accelerator.

You reach the lakeside, and your shoulders are burnt, and your eyes are squinting as they adjust to the bright sun, but your breath still hitches as you look across the lake. It’s not spectacular, or particularly broad in beauty in fact it’s rather dull because the water’s murky and the grass is dry and overgrown but it’s the memories that are scorching.

You sit on the pebbles, sobbing hysterically, because you’re crazy to be back, because you’re supposed to forget, to _fucking_ forget but you can’t, it’s not possible. You toss the pebbles, and they’re pearly and white and they glint in the sunshine as they dapple across the dark waters, creating a rippling affect, and you toss your head back to let the memories flow through your body.

Eventually it gets colder, and you sit on the hood of the car, the cool metal against your skin, and as much as you try to push away the idea, you know there was a reason you came here, its him, and you need to think, think about everything before you drown yourself in liquor and overlook, it’s time to _finally_ forget.

Laughter that stupid contemptuous laugh, and his stupid cocky smirk, and those stupid perfectly perfect blue eyes suddenly construct in your mind, and it’s all a bang of fireworks, which flutter down with warmth, those blue eyes dancing with every colour imaginable, like someone moulded the rainbow into a background of ocean blue and placed them between long, feathery eyelashes creating the most strikingly, heartbreakingly beautiful person imaginable.

You remember back to when he brought you here, (“You know the cities great but it’s full of unnatural light, and pollution and you can’t even see the stars, the _fucking_ stars Haz, I want to read my future you know, see what’s beyond, it’s all mapped out there amongst the shining stars, they were created for us to read. The earth is moving Haz, I feel it when I’m around you, and I’m dizzy, amazed and loved all at the same time, you make me feel like my hearts beating in my throat, every beat is my last, every breath my preceding and its _fucking_ crazy and I love it, I’d go mental any time for you. You make me feel like I could die right now, because it’s an honour just to meet you, my life’s complete, I don’t need to breath anymore, I don’t need a heart because my body belongs to you. It’s all yours”)

And you believed, you _fucking_ believed him, he was crazy, he was an absolute _bastard_ because he left you, he was true to his word, the stars had halted, they were now more stars in his personal map they were gone and they didn’t shine anymore. The earth had stopped spinning, and he still laughed as it slowed, he didn’t give in but you did, he left when you _fucking_ needed him.

You remember when you visited him in the room of white, he was pale and his cheeks were flushed but his eyes were still bright, littered with glitter and they shone so brightly that it would make the sun cry, and you didn’t breath, because the more the earth the slowed down, the less stars in his own personal map, the more beautiful he became.

The earth stopped spinning for you, and you stayed in the city, you loved it there because you couldn’t see the stars and it was cold, the light was unnatural and the moon wasn’t laughing at you tears.

You weren’t dizzy but you were slowly going crazy, because the hallways of white were too much, because he should in a room splattered with all the colours of the rainbow, everyone should be grinning too wide and laughter should be the only sound to ever be heard, because it was your favourite smile in the world.

The strange thing is, is that he never complained about anything, he laughed off the pain, and refused comfort and acted like sitting in a chemical room was the most normal thing in the world, as if tomorrow we’d go running back to the lakeside and jump into the murky waters, and throw pebbles whilst sitting shivering on the hood of his old red Camaro eating green jelly babies, because they were his favourite.

You grasped his hand, your throat clogging up and he was still warm but you knew it was the last day, you could feel it when you woke up that morning, your bones were shaky and it just felt like the end and to be perfectly honest you don’t even know how you found the energy to just _move._

Blue eyes were bright with laughter, and when you walked through the door his pulled you too his warm chest, and he was vibrating, vibrating with life and you threw the fact that he was dying to the back of your mind, but it was still heavy in your bones, and your subconscious was already ready for it all to break.

You simply lay against each other, no words were uttered, and they simply didn’t need to be because you had this effortless connection and never were there awkward moments or times when the other’s presence wasn’t meant to be.

You always noticed that he was happy, always grinning stupidly like a child on Christmas morning, or a toddler on a sugar high it was just his persona, and you wouldn’t have it any other way because he brightened you up every single time, but as you looked into the future all you saw was bleakness because he wouldn’t be beside you anymore.

You sobbed as the heart monitor bleeped slower, and you grasped his hand tightly it was almost painful, and he looked down at you sprawled messily over his chest and he smiled, he _fucking_ smiled.

Then those blue eyes, those _goddamn_ beautiful blue eyes fluttered closed, and he took his last breath with a squeeze of his hand and you didn’t have the energy to call the doctor, you soaked his t-shirt with salt instead and wished, wished that it’d been you instead.

But it wasn’t you, it was him, it was him that now lays six feet under, it’s him that’s a cold corpse.

And you’ll never forgive yourself.

 

Because you saw every rooftop in the midnight breeze, and you drank every great cup of coffee, but you couldn’t save the person who loved you the most, the one who made your life _actually_ worth living, instead of just living without any tangible significance.

But he’s gone, and you wait by the lakeside and gaze at the stars with teary eyes and a fistful of sticky green gummy bears above the cold metal of his Camaro waiting for those stars to align with your future, and eventually the reunion with your angel.

The page of the journal is slightly crumpled and you can just about make out your messy and smudged inscription.

_The stars show the future of my angel._

_My angel x_


End file.
